Hawa Muya cradles her baby boy while her daughter shelters from the sand and flies against her mum’s black robe.

The 28-year-old is sitting patiently in a long line as she keeps a close eye on Hussein, who is 10 months, and Fatma, aged one

Describing her exhausting journey across Somalia to get here, she mentions in passing that her other daughter Amina, three, died from starvation on the way.

There’s no hysteria in Hawa’s voice as she quietly describes watching Amina drop dead in front of her.

It is disturbingly matter-of-fact as she says: “There were a large group of us travelling together. We had no food and had to rely on begging whenever we got to a village. But those people had nothing as well.

“My daughter was the first in the group to die. She was badly malnourished and she just slumped down on the ground. Some men took her into the shade but she never recovered.

“I sat and listened to her trying to murmur a few words. Her mouth was too dry to speak.”

Wiping the flies from Hussein’s face, Hawa adds: “They helped me dig a hole in the ground to bury her in. Then, a few hours later, we carried on walking.”

The mum says: “My husband is in Somalia so we have nothing, but I am glad we got here.

“Back home all the animals are dead. There is nothing to eat at all.”

LAWLESS

We are in a dusty corner of the desperately overcrowded Dagahaley refugee camp, which has more than 400,000 residents, making it the biggest in the world.

Desperately-thin children hold out their tiny hands at the base, in the Kenyan town of Dadaab, to show off yellow wristbands.

The plastic bands are a lifeline for these starving Somalis.

Abdirizaq Hassan, eight, was given his by UN staff three days ago to register his arrival in Kenya. He is now officially a drought refugee.

Like many others, Abdirizaq endured a trek through the lawless Somali desert, braving the worst dry spell to hit East Africa in 60 years and the constant threat of bandits.

It is a familiar tale in an unprecedented human exodus.

After three years of failed rains, food supplies are dangerously low.

Looming famine and war is prompting thousands of desperate Somalis to head for Kenya.

Daily arrivals have soared from 200 to nearly 2,000 and officials at Dadaab are struggling to cope. Gezahegn Kebede, regional director of children’s charity Plan, says: “What we are seeing at Dadaab is just the tip of the iceberg. There are millions of people without enough food for themselves or their children.

“They’re spread across six countries in an area larger than Western Europe – many are on the move across some of the most inhospitable and inaccessible lands on the planet. They need help and fast.

“We’ve worked with families to prepare for annual drought – but this year is different. Failed rains, dwindling resources and rising food prices have created the perfect storm.”

Dadaab is at the centre of a humanitarian crisis, but for those surviving under plastic sheets in the scrub it is still better than home.

When you look around, it is almost impossible to imagine how bad that home must be.

Waiting in line is 76-year-old Khadija, whose suffering is written all over her gaunt face.

She got here on Sunday after a 30-night hike from Somalia’s north.

She would walk until noon, rest for a few hours in the worst of the intense heat, then continue on foot until the early hours of the morning.

Khadija left her husband in Somalia to tend for their few remaining cattle – the family’s only assets – and she is on her own.

Holding the grey shawl wrapped over her head, Khadija tells me the clothes she arrived in are her only possessions. We follow Hawa and Khadija through a wire fence to a shelter where they again have to wait patiently to have their fingerprints taken by UN staff.

Young children wail with frustration. Their eyes are glazed from permanent hunger and their skin is covered in white blotches because of their poor diet.

TREACHEROUS

One in five youngsters arrives at Dadaab suffering chronic malnutrition.

A mum holds up a bag containing a few dry biscuits. She tells me this is all her four children have had to eat during their six-day car journey across Somalia.

The escalating food crisis really hits home at a malnutrition clinic run by the International Rescue Corps.

In one bed is 20-year-old mum Saadia Abdi, whose daughter Sahro, aged one, weighed just eight pounds when they arrived at the camp a week ago.

Next to her is Abdille Ibrahim, who is looking after his one-year-old son Adem alone after his wife died in the treacherous desert during their 25-day trek.

Abdille, 35, says: “My son is in very poor condition. After my wife died I carried my three children in my arms because they were so exhausted and hungry. But we are here and it means we might have a better future.”

It was too late for many. Muktar, 14, points to a mound in a nearby burial ground and tells our translator it is where his baby brother is buried. “His name was Ibrahim,” he says.

“He was really sweet, he was always smiling, but I don’t think he was strong enough to deal with being hungry all the time. He got malaria too. His body was swollen all over. It was horrible.

“Here there isn’t enough food for everyone but in Somalia I was terrified of the fighting between the government and the terrorists. I like it here because I might be able to go to school.

“Even though my brother has died here I never want to go back home.”

As the emergency gets worse, the numbers arriving across the border about an hour away are expected to increase.

Few aid agencies can work in Somalia because of fears of attacks by militants.

Islamist group al-Shabab only lifted a ban on foreign aid agencies last week.

Britain’s Disasters Emergency Committee appeal to help people affected by drought in the Horn of Africa has raised £9million so far.

Brendan Gormley, chief executive of the Disasters Emergency Committee, said the public had been “remarkably generous”.